


It's... It's Green

by InterNutter



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:55:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once again my fave OC steps into another reality...</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's... It's Green

Disclaimer: Girl Genius and all its associated characters belong entirely to Phil and Kaja Foglio and/or any proprietary interests. I only own Sara Louise Adrien and this story. Thanks for not nicking either.

It's... It's Green  
InterNutter

"Let me get this straight," said Gil. "We have everything Castle Wulfenbach could summon inside of two hours, increasing amounts of backup on the way, and one experiment gets almost all the way through to Mechanicsburg and the first we know of it is it--"  
"She," corrected the greenish humanoid.  
"--breaks a drop wall with an UMBRELLA?"  
"It's a very good umbrella," offered the experiment, currently restrained by a pair of immense clanks. It was covered in tiny scales of every shade of green, blue and inbetween. It had short, brown hair in an unruly mop and a plain gingham dress... Or what used to be a plain gingham dress. It had been patched and darned and repaired so often that it almost looked like a costume for a production of _The Patchwork Moppet_.  
Gil stared at her. "...a very good umbrella...?"  
"Still intact," she chirped, nodding over to a third clank that held the umbrella in question.  
Her boots were mismatched. Re-sewn and re-nailed with brass cork board tacks someone had trimmed so they'd fit. There was one knitted sock, but the other foot was bound with a bandage.  
Father could always read a person's state of dress. Gil had picked up some of the basics. This outfit said, 'down on her luck' louder than any broadcaster could.  
Father had always been generous to waifs and strays. On the theory that it was better to know where they were, rather than to leave them to their own devices.  
"So. Miss...?"  
"Sara Louise Adrien."  
"Miss Adrien. Why are you green?"  
"I prefer to think of myself as a little bit blue-ish." An anxious grin. "In brief, I was cluttering up my old home so dear Mama offered my services to a Spark calling himself the Master Magnician. He did quite a few painful things to me and now I have scales. My skin blends into the scenery, but my clothes don't. Needless to say, even if he wasn't defeated in some sparky squabble, I'd still be a failed experiment."  
"I can't say I've heard of the Master Magnician..."  
"Oh, he's long dead. Same thing happened to him as happened to any idiot who tries to invent the Enlisted Man."  
"Which experiment turned on him?"  
"A wild man with something of a healing power. He had metal implanted in his bones and went beyond completely loopy. It was tremendously messy. Then Lord Grimswade attacked with his flying marmot clanks. Sort of a coup de grace, really. I did what I could for everyone else. Fellows in the fold and all. Lord Grimswade was really set on leveling the place, so I made certain everyone who could get out... did. Matchmaking on the fly. That was fun."  
"And the clank?" Gil gestured at the giant brass chest that stood on a multitude of legs.  
"Oh, just a piece of tat I cobbled together out of this and that. I found a Master's Inter-dimensional Storage Warper and dabbled with it a bit. Sort of gave the rest of it a bit more personality than I bargained for."  
"...person--"  
The chest grinned at him. It had too many realistic, sharp teeth. And far too realistic gums.  
"Down..." cautioned Sara. "Sit!"  
The chest settled down on the floor. Its teeth vanished.  
"Open."  
The thing opened. Now, instead of a mouth, there was clothing - all well-worn and patched, of course, some cubes of Erlindorff's Patented Dehydrated Stew and a few tins of food. There were some peculiar green sausages, too. Gil lifted one out.  
"And these are...?"  
"Pease porridge. Horrible old invention from England. Travels amazingly well if you get the spices correct. I have a useful recipe..."  
"Thankyou. That won't be necessary." He allowed the case to shut. "And the umbrella?"  
"I managed to smuggle out a few samples of the Magnician's metal experiments. I used them and some of my own materials to make it." Her teeth were amazingly white against those blue-ish lips. "It's amazing what one can do with GoatSpider silk."  
"How in the name of--?"  
"Pease porridge. Surprisingly useful."  
Gil looked at her deceptively thin frame and wondered if she used it as an oral, or a concussive sedative. Or a deterrent. "In case you haven't noticed, there's a conflict going on. I'm trying to prevent a continent-wide war."  
"Oh yes. That Heterodyne girl business. Are you on the side of the pink one or the coffee house one?"  
Gil froze, halfway through walking away. "No-one was supposed to know about Agatha... Or the coffee house."  
"I'm very good at putting things together."  
"Give her some copybooks and writing material. You," he pointed to Sara, "are going to write down everything important you've 'put together' for my inspection, later."  
"I suppose I should put the positioning of the Twelfth Hoomhoffers on the front page?"  
"What about the Twelfth Hoomhoffers?"  
"Oh, just that they're in prime position to do something nasty to the fourteenth heavily armed brigade and vice versa. They've been near mortal enemies since way before forever and what with Baron Wolfenbach mysteriously missing, there's going to be a whole lot of erstwhile infighting going on."  
"Infighting."  
"Yes. The Hoomhoffers can't be within range of the Fourteenth. And you can't let the Greater Kestrel anywhere near the Ins and Outs. And forget about putting the Fortieth Foot within sniping range of the Lanky Lakers. If the Jaegers weren't all going home, you could-- but you *could* plausibly use the Clank Tanks as a buffer in a pinch, but some of the pilots are loyal to Major Thomas Thompson, so they'd follow the lead of his vessel. I do believe it's The Green Lady?"  
"How do you know this stuff?"  
"Honestly, it's no worse than arranging the seating at family gatherings. A little research in a few libraries along the way does wonders. I did make an error not anticipating the drop walls, though. I should have foreseen that. They are employed in fifty-three point four five percent of all uprising containments. Sorry about that."  
Instead of putting her out of the way, he dragged her towards the strategy table. "Go ahead. Rearrange the bickering relatives so no-one punches Uncle Wolf."  
"How did you know about--?"  
"Everyone's got an Uncle Wolf."  
He didn't just watch, he listened. He muttering fell to mumbling as her eyebrows lowered and her face slackened. It further reduced to humming as her tongue protruded.  
Then half a tune emerged, just under her breath.  
She was Heterodyning! This girl was either a Spark to begin with or had been turned into one by the mascinations of the Master Magnician. But... How? How could any man bring himself to experiment on a female Spark? They we're so rare...  
Sara moved, rearranging indicators with a delicate touch. No time nor movement was wasted. "There. I'm not so certain of the strategy, but similar arrangements can be made if you sort of cycle them around."  
It seemed sound. "Karloff! Make sure miss Adrien and her... accessories... Are safely quartered. My apologies for my abruptness, Frau, but I do have a war to prevent."  
"Well understood. Luggage! Heel!"  
The chest trotted after her as she vanished from the chaos.  
Gil turned back to his strategizing and thought no more of her.

Sara breathed out once she locked the door. Private quarters. All right, admittedly small private quarters, but this made certain things a lot easier. "Time to let Jane out."  
The luggage opened to a small room containing an equally small child holding tight to a doll. If anyone were observing, they would note that the child's clothing was in much better condition than Sara's.  
"Safe at last," assured Sara. "Were you scared?"  
"...no."  
"There's my brave girl." Sara lifted her out into a hug. Jane was eerily pale, and missing the pinkie fingers of her hands. Sara also lifted out a book. "I believe we were up to the meeting of the Iron Shiekh."  
Jane clung tight as Sara sat. "'My word,' said Barry. 'This whole tent is made out of iron!' 'No wonder I couldn't cut it,' said their old friend Klaus. Bill looked around their iron accommodations and said, 'We're not escaping'..."

"Hello, there," said Sleipnir. "Are you one of the salvage jobs?"  
"Possibly," said the greenish, tall thing with short brown hair and a patchwork dress. "What's a salvage job?"  
"The master or one of his pet Sparks rescues an experiment once in a while. Puts them into new work in the castle. Baron Wolfenbach really had a knack for picking a monster for a job."  
"...monster...?"  
"Well, I don't know anything about the new Baron. Did you meet him?"  
"Oh. Was that him? He seemed angry. And... Almost ordinary. He was interested to hear my observations on inter-unit conflicts. But he's a busy man with the whole Heterodyne thing."  
"Don't remind me about the Heterodyne thing," Slipnir rolled her eyes. "It feels like we've been here for months."  
"Oh. Um. Sorry. I didn't mean to offend..."  
"Hey, relax. I was only joking. Come on. You probably need to eat, right?"  
"Well, I have been sort of scavenging. I assumed there'd be an orientation..."  
"Orientation? That's last on the list, right now. Come on. You need new clothes. Ever tried pants?"  
"People tend to assume I'm a man when I wear them. Skirts say a lot in the absence of... Um... Er..." she gestured in the general direction of her flattish chest.  
"Oh. Right. Sorry. Did the experiment involve... Um...." a cutting gesture across her own, lavish endowments.  
"No, I was always less curvy than others. Mother insisted I chose to grow up rather than out."  
Sleipnir got speculative. "Maybe if we put on enough frills..."  
"Lace on a pig still gets muddy," recited the greenish monster. "Maybe there's an avenue of... compromise. Something halfway between."  
"Ooh! This sounds like a perfect excuse to try out our new fabric fabricator!" Sleipnir's grin almost took over her face. It was the kind of smile that would terrify ordinary mortals.  
"Sounds fascinating," said the monster.

"...stepped through the curtains and--"  
Taptaptaptap...  
Sara looked up, checked the porthole on her door and, seeing no-one, returned to her reading. "Lucrezia Mongfish stepped through the curt--"  
Taptaptaptap...  
She put Jane down and got up to check the pothole. Nobody there. "Dear? She whispered, "do you... feel anyone?"  
"...excited," Jane pointed to the lower half of the door. "...curious."  
"Let's hide, just in case."  
Jane clambered into the Luggage's maw. Sara counted to five and opened the door.  
A swarm of small sprites clustered by her portal.  
"You liar! You said she was the patchwork moppet!" Accused one as they punched another.  
"Nah-uh! I said she looked like it!"  
"She's still got the skin, I guess," said a third.  
"Are you th' patchwork moppet, lady?"  
"Can you read to us? We heard you readin' an... We can't hear all of it through the door."  
"All right, but I have one special condition," said Sara. "I need all of you to swear to keep a secret."  
Each child gave their own solemn oath, and Sara let them in. She rapped a complicated code on the Luggage, which let Jane out again.  
"This is my friend Jane. The man who experimented on me... did something very cruel to her. She rarely talks, and she's almost always scared."  
Jane hid in Sara's arms. Sara manipulated her into her own lap and retrieved her book by complicated leverage. "Now, I do believe Lucrezia Mongfish was walking in on Bill Heterodyne, yes?"  
"Yes," chorussed the eager crowd.  
"...'es..." squeaked Jane.  
"Lucrezia Mongfish stepped through the curtains and demanded, 'Who dared destroy my beautiful frogs?' Her terrified minions leaped to point their fingers, or what passed for them, at the elder Heterodyne brother..."

"This is a vacated lab," said Sleipnir. "Sort everything and tidy up."  
"...yicht..." muttered Sara.  
"Monster work. Sorry. Until one of the masters decides you're good at something and assigns you duty."  
"If I figure out a few useful bits and bobs, may I... make them?"  
Sleipnir boggled. "Sure. We're all interested to see what others come up with."

That was some weeks ago. Gil had reached a point where it was sleep or die, no matter what the crisis going on, so he had ruthlessly delegated until nobody wanted him to fix anything and stormed off down the halls of Castle Wolfenbach, looking for an isolated bunk.  
He barely missed being flattened by an explosion. Or, more precisely, the being propelled by an explosion. She was wearing an odd form of pants that was mostly skirt and a shirt that was singed at the ruffles.  
"I think I know where I went wrong," said the creature.  
"Miss... Adrien?" he hazarded.  
A sudden grin. "You remembered me! So many people forget I'm around." She pulled herself up and dusted most of the carbon dust off her front. "I'm truly flattered, mein Herr...?"  
"Gilgamesh Wolfenbach."

**Author's Note:**

> Kinda stopped for shinier plotbunnies. Sorry. Still trying to figure out the natural consequences and where, if anywhere, this story is going.  
> Those of you who've seen my instant stories on internutter.tumblr.com know it's probably going to involve Madame/General Gkika and pretty liddle dresses :)


End file.
